


Ropes Unbound

by MyScandalousRomance



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, wolf form!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyScandalousRomance/pseuds/MyScandalousRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn’t get half way through the field before he’s in his full form; that of a full blooded wolf, just as Laura had looked before he’d closed the wooden casket he buried her in and lowered it by hand into the hole he’d dug in his backyard. He ran as fast as his newfound paws would carry him through the forest, chasing down the scent that soothed his wolf and made the tightly wound knot of guilt and pain in his gut easier to bare. </p><p>Or, the one where the new moon makes Derek want to let his wolf run free and he finds Stiles lost in the woods (looking for Scott, of course) instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ropes Unbound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keniann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keniann/gifts).



> For my gorgeous girl Kena. 
> 
> She's been dealing with some family drama and I thought I'd write her a little something to make her feel better =) And thus, this one-shot was born! 
> 
> I apologize for the lack of any real plot, and any ooc-ness or other problem you find. Oh! And sorry for how rushed this sounds. I wrote this at one in the morning (while Kena was still online, haha) with nothing but vodka and Captain Crunch in my system. Heh. 
> 
> Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own. Next time I promise I'll actually upload something worth reading, haha. 
> 
> Comments are love. :)

_the fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress  
until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest  
the saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'd ground_  
  
\- o -  
  
It took him under like a wave.  


The new moon is full and heavy and bright in the open sky above him, and Derek can feel the moonlight soaking through his skin like acid, burning through and bleeding into his veins. He had premeditated that the new moon would be.. difficult for him (and he took all the appropriate precautions to keep himself grounded to his humanity), but tonight the pull of the moon seemed stronger. He couldn’t ever remember a time when he felt this feral, this out of control-- even as a child he always had someone there to help him, and by the time he was an adult he’d learned to keep full control of himself.  
  
The moonlight continued to bleed into his veins, syphoning him full of adrenaline and heat; a wildfire surging through his bloodstream, burning just as white hot and wild as the fire that burnt down his home and desecrated his family. There was a cold sweat was breaking out across the nape of his neck, along his collarbone and pecs and shoulder blades. Something was changing, shifting-- he could feel it in the air, thrumming like an electric undercurrent. It made his hair stand on end, make his skin prickle and crawl with the need to change--  
  
A bitter wind blew against his bare chest, sharp and cool with the promise of winter, and it made Derek think of Kate. It made him think of how bitter her smile looked stretched too broad across her pretty face, how gorgeous she’d once looked laying naked by the fireplace _just waiting for him_ , the warmly tanned curves of her bare body softly illuminated by firelight.  
  
It made his chest and gut both tight with guilt and anger and paranoia.  
  
Derek didn’t even remember what drew him out into the woods, what compelled him to tear off his shirt and just run, run until he was standing in an open field of soft blue flowers. He hadn’t been standing there, just staring up at the moon, but five minutes before a sudden scent, one that had been caught on the wind, abruptly filled his nostrils and hit him like a punch to the gut.  
  
The scent was sharp and bare, nothing but familiarity and an earthy musk and _boy_.  
  
Stiles.  
  
Of fucking _course_ it would be Stiles.  
  
Derek couldn’t stop the howl that tore from his throat, he just threw his head back and let the haunting sound fill the open space around him and carry throughout the woodland. It was a long, loud mourning sound; that of a lone alpha longing for a pack.  
  
For a mate.  
  
For a famliy.  
  
Derek doesn’t get half way through the field before he’s in his full form; that of a full blooded wolf, just as Laura had looked before he’d closed the wooden casket he buried her in and lowered it by hand into the hole he’d dug in his backyard. He ran as fast as his newfound paws would carry him through the forest, chasing down the scent that soothed his wolf and made the tightly wound knot of guilt and pain in his gut easier to bare.  
  
\- o -  
  
Stiles hates Scott right now.  
  
 _Really_ hates him.  
  
See, Stiles had learned from experience that wandering through the woods at night with no sense of sight or direction was a very, very, very bad idea. Especially now that werewolves and hunters and kanimas and God knows what else wanted Derek’s (and by association, _his_ ) head on a stick. _Bloody_. But Stiles thought of himself as a pretty good friend (the best goddamn friend ever), and Scott had called him up at nearly two in the morning babbling on about Allison and Gerard and something about Matt controlling Jackson and begged him to come help.  
  
But Scott was Scott, and Scott didn’t make decent choices on his best days, so Stiles once again found himself wandering through the woods. Alone. Looking for Scott.  

  
Hell, he couldn’t even remember why they were out there.  
  
“Scott..?” Stiles called out, heart starting to race as the panic rose. “Scott?!” 

He never got a reply.

\- o -  
  
After nearly an hour of running, chasing after that warm, earthy scent, Derek found Stiles sitting up against a tree; his head buried in his hands and quiet, whimpering noises rasping and tearing from his mouth. He didn’t smell hurt, or sick-- just tired and nervous and angry and panicky, and beneath all that, afraid.  
  
He smelt so afraid .  
  
Derek made a low whining noise in the back of his throat as he approached, and sure enough, just moments later, Stiles was looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. A sudden surge of panic filled Derek’s senses, and he could tell Stiles wasn’t quite sure if this wolf was a werewolf or just a wolf in general.  
  
“Oh, great,” Stiles breathed out. “Just fucking great. Of all the weird shit going on right now, and I’m going to get eaten by a wolf. Talk about irony.”  
  
A bitter, broken chuckle tore it’s way from his throat.  
  
“Well, come on wolfy,” Stiles prompted, leaning back and extending his arms. “Do your damndest.”  
  
Derek whined lowly again, padding up next to Stiles and pressing his nose to the palm of the younger boy’s hand. He laid down next to Stiles and rested his head on the younger boy’s leg, his wolf suddenly feeling very sated and content despite Stiles negative emotions.    
  
“Scott..?” Stiles’ asked, gently carding his fingers through the wolf’s thick, coarse fur.  
  
Derek looked up at Stiles and met his gaze, flashing his electric red eyes. He tried not to take pleasure in the relief that washed through the both of them.  
  
“Derek,” Stiles said with a weary, lopsided grin. “You’re not so sour after all, are you?”  
  
Had he been human, Derek would have told Stiles to shut the hell up and go home, but instead Derek just let his head rest against Stiles leg. He waited patiently while he cried, while he ranted on about Scott and the Argents and his father, just letting Stiles.. dare he say, pet him.  
  
In about twenty minutes Stiles would fall asleep leaning against Derek’s hulking wolf form.  
  
Derek would shift back to human and drive Stiles home, put him in bed and pull off his shoes and make sure he was comfortable. Then he’d crawl into bed next to his young mate and let the synchronized sound of their heart beats lull him to sleep.  
  
They could deal with the rest of the world in the morning.


End file.
